Classic Poetry

Then let not winter's ragged hand defaceIn thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some placeWith beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.That use is not forbidden usury,Which happies those that pay the willing loan;That's for thyself to breed another thee,Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,Leaving thee living in posterity?Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fairTo be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

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About the Author
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) was born in Stratford-upon-Avon, a small country town. Stratford was famous for its malting. The black plague killed in 1564 one out of seven of the town's 1,500 inhabitants. Shakespeare was the eldest son of Mary Arden, the daughter of a local landowner, and her husband, John... Read William Shakespeare's Full Biography